


enough for now

by lesbianiconjasontodd



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days
Genre: Everything is Complicated, Gen, if you can't tell i'm inching toward some grand brotherly bonding time we never saw in canon, jason doesn't know how to chill and neither do i, mentions of Bruce, mentions of Damian, mentions of Ra's and the League, mostly they're a family, no editing we die like men, not that literally any of this is canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 19:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16939290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianiconjasontodd/pseuds/lesbianiconjasontodd
Summary: Jason's not looking for a family. Family doesn't really care.





	enough for now

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a sequel to lazarus boy, kind of the start of something new. Thanks for reading!

The night had been long, the bad guys had been boring, and Jason Todd was ready to turn in for a solid three days of sleep. For all that he loved his city, tonight, Gotham could shove it.

He’d been dodging the birds and their brooding protector since coming back--to life, to Gotham, to a slippery grip on his sanity--and that meant longer routes, later nights, and more risks to stay off their radar. Running from Batman was exhausting, and the insomnia broken up by blackouts and ghoulish nightmares wasn’t going to last him much longer. The Red Hood needed a break, or he was going to shut down completely.

Landing on the roof of his apartment building, Jason shucked off the helmet and gloves and peeled away the domino mask around his eyes. His former mentor would’ve called him  _ careless, Robin, anybody could be watching _ . He hoped the big guy was watching when he stuck a middle finger in the air before heading inside. The little things were what counted.

The hallways were quiet leading down to his place. Unusual, but appreciated. He hadn’t chosen this area for the atmosphere; quiet was a rare beast in the Narrows, and he was not about to let it go to waste.

He only remembered when the key slipped in the lock that quiet could mean something worse.

His knife was in his hand before the door opened. Nothing looked out of place at first glance--shoes by the door, jacket on the rack, all doors and windows closed and latched. A light shone in the kitchen and the low hum of the refrigerator was the loudest sound in the room.

He could have left the light on.

He never left the light on.

The tap turned on, then off. Jason reached for his gun.

“Are you coming in,  _ eini _ , or did you want someone to hit you first?”

_ What the hell _ .

Jason felt the tension roll off his shoulders, instantly at ease. The sight of the world’s deadliest assassin sitting at his breakfast bar with a cup of tea and his worn copy of  _ Persuasion _ probably shouldn’t have been comforting, but he figured he’d put it down to childhood trauma and work out the rest in therapy. He slid his weapons back into place and set the rest of his equipment on the counter. “Talia. I could’ve shot you,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

She sipped at her tea indifferently. “Unlikely. I heard you coming from the end of the hall. You’ve let your training slip.”

Was that disapproval? He tried not to think about it. “I didn’t know you were here. Want me to leave and try again from the window?”

“I see your sense of humor is back. How very like your father.”

Jason scoffed. Only Talia al Ghul would accuse Batman of levity. “Right. Not my father. Is he why you’re skulking in my apartment at two in the morning?”

“Not necessarily,” she replied. Her voice was calm, expression impassive, but something was off. She wouldn’t be here without warning like this if everything was fine.

Someone in the room below yelled, and another neighbor screamed a reply. The clock above the sink ticked another minute, still a half hour behind. Three streets down, a cop flipped on his siren.

“Talia,” he said quietly, “what’s going on?”

She’d been waiting for him to ask. Her eyes caught his and, in that same cool tone, she spoke. “I’ve just come from the manor. Damian is there. I want you to keep an eye on him.”

“On who? On Damian?”

“Of course. My son is skilled, but he is young. He will push himself to impress his peers and I do not wish to see him hurt.”

He laughed once, bitter and weary. “So you left him with the Batman. Right. In what way is that gonna keep him safe?”

Talia didn’t react, as he knew she wouldn’t. She slid a paper between the pages of his book and closed it carefully, setting it by her empty cup. Very casually, she stood and walked past him to place the dish in the sink, brushing her silken hair behind her shoulder. Everything about her was regal and unconcerned when she said “Bruce Wayne is Damian’s biological father. I am assured he will do his best, but I would appreciate your help in making certain his best is enough.” When he didn’t answer, she added “Think of it as helping your brother adjust.”

_ My brother _ . Well, that was a blindside. Jason knew the kid from his time with the League, but he remembered enough to put this in context. He’d inherited his mother’s dark skin and proud features, not to mention her grace in battle and deadly precision. The kid never trained with him, but Jason had caught him watching from the shadows many times; he’d always found something awfully familiar about those solemn gray eyes. Now it seemed so obvious. The color and shape, the way they couldn’t quite conceal his emotions, the way they went cold when he was angry and sparkled when he was pleased. Wayne eyes. Family heirlooms.

He should have known.

“His  _ son _ . Hell, Talia.” He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. Everything suddenly seemed too bright, everything in his brain too loud. None of his next thoughts made any sense. “Were you ever going to tell me?” he demanded.

“I hadn’t planned to,” she admitted. She was always very calm when she told the truth.

“Why the hell not?

“There was no reason to. I saw only one course of action that would come from revealing his identity, and so I kept it to myself.”

“He’s a  _ kid _ . I wouldn’t do anything to him.”

“You couldn’t if you tried. You would not hesitate, however, to pass that knowledge on to your father--”

“ _ Not _ my father--”

“--and he would waste no time in seeking us out. You were leaving, Jason, to return to him. Forgive me for not wanting to lose another son.”

Jason couldn’t stop another hard and humorless laugh. “Right. Another son. You always liked calling me that, guilt-tripping me into coming back, staying another month even after I was ready. I’m not your son, Talia! And I’m not his either. I am no one’s son,” he snarled.

She regarded him again and he saw her eyes glancing between his, checking for green, testing the danger level,  _ is he rabid or is he mad _ ? As if he hadn’t wondered himself. Batman’s rabid dog who’d choked on his own leash. He hated that she didn’t trust him, hated more that he didn’t trust himself. He quickly shifted his gaze down to the book instead and said “You should leave. I’ll watch Damian’s back, but I can’t protect him from everything. He’ll want Robin. I can’t stop that.”

“Nor should you. It is his birthright.”

“It’s a suicide attempt.”

“What would you have me do, Jason?” Her tone was sharp now, her patience spent. “My father has plans for Damian, as he has always had plans for his bloodline. Ra’s wants immortality, and he will do whatever is necessary to achieve it; his grandson, regardless of talent or potential, is merely a means to this end, as you were when I found you wandering Gotham’s streets. For now, he is content to let the boy train at my side, but he knows I delay his progress to protect him, and it will not last. His peace with my beloved is strong; it is not so with me. I have risked much in coming here, knowing full well what fate may befall my son. All I ask of you is to make that risk worth it.”

Jason suddenly remembered who she was--Talia al Ghul, daughter of the Demon’s Head, the deadliest woman in the world--and how fast she could cut his throat if he really pissed her off. He’d already proved plenty killable by dying once and wasn’t too keen on testing his refurbished mortality against someone who’d put Batman on his ass more than once. Moreover, he understood her actions, the defiance that led her to Gotham, the fear and love she held in equal parts for her family. She’d brought him back to life and all she wanted in return was protection for her kid. Jason could do that. Another Robin or another brother or fellow kid from a messed up home--it didn’t matter. Damian would always be safe with him.

“I’ll keep him safe,” he promised, “from Ra’s and the League, and whoever else is after Bruce. He won’t be harmed in my city.”

Talia said nothing at first, just watched him, still and silent. Then, without him seeing her move, she stood before him, her arms pulling him close. Jason’s first thought was  _ this is an attack _ . But she just stood there. Holding him. His heart was pounding out of his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time somebody hugged him. Probably, he’d been dead at the time.

Cautiously, still expecting the gesture to turn into some kind of choke-hold, Jason hugged her back.

Back when his mom was alive, Catherine never stopped hugging him. She loved having her little boy around to kiss and pinch and play with and he’d adored her for it. Even when he got older and she got sicker, Jason would be tucking a ratty blanket around her or spooning cold soup between her chapped lips and she would place a hand on his cheek and ask him “Where’s my hug, sweetheart?” It was the one thing he’d missed the most after she died; he’d even told his childhood pen pal once that if he could have anything he wanted, anything at all, he’d want his mom to hold him again.

Talia wasn’t Catherine, not by a long shot. But she needed him, and he needed her, and that could be enough for now.

The assassin let go, stepping back to catch his gaze. She looked tired, but smiled anyway. “I owe you a great debt,” she said solemnly.

“And a fortune in babysitting fees,” he added with a lopsided grin.

She waved him off with a dismissive gesture. “Take it up with your father.” They both waited for him to say  _ not my father _ . To his surprise, the denial didn’t come. Somewhere in his recharged heart, the angry green horror had gone quiet, pulling away instead of rushing forward at the thought of Bruce. Strange. Jason gave himself a minute to consider what that could mean, then folded the feeling away for further dissection later.

The clock ticked forward amid their silence, minutes off-balance from the rest of the world. Neither said goodbye; they’d said their goodbyes ages ago. Jason turned to the sink to finish the dishes and when he turned back, she was gone.

Reaching across the table to retrieve the abandoned book, he caught a whiff of her jasmine perfume, the sharp tang of steel. Catherine had always smelled like dish soap and cologne from a bottle Willis had smashed by the couch when Jason was seven, the same soap drying on his hands now, the same cologne on his pillow he couldn’t sleep without. The rich, lingering aroma wasn’t as comforting, but it was still home.

He didn’t know how he felt about that, about the place Talia held in his life. His track record with mothers so far wasn’t great--one overdosed on his watch, one blown up to spite him--but he wasn’t even certain an assassin who’d risen him from the dead and trained him as a killer counted as a mother. Should she? Did he owe her that much? Sometimes, when he still trained with League, he’d catch her watching him from a window or balcony and think  _ maybe _ . The day he’d finally left for Gotham, his goodbye had all but meant it. Jason wasn’t the same person he’d been back then, but maybe that was a good thing. After all, she trusted him to keep Damian from harm after months of not even telling him who the boy was out of reasonable concern of what he would do. That meant something, however small it seemed.

He wasn’t about to make amends with Bruce or absolve Talia of what she molded him into. But Damian--Damian was a kid. Jason hadn’t even met him yet. If anyone deserved a chance in this damn city, he did.

Sighing, Jason set the book aside again and picked up his helmet. So much for sleeping. With everything he’d learned tonight, he wouldn’t get much sleep anyway.

Time to pay the family a visit.


End file.
